


Fireworks

by zulu



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Other, for:alanwolfmoon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-16
Updated: 2009-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-02 13:47:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zulu/pseuds/zulu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being with Stacy was like fireworks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alanwolfmoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alanwolfmoon/gifts).



> Written for alanwolfmoon. Thanks to shutterbug_12 for the beta.

**Fireworks**

Being with Stacy was like fireworks. Her anger ignited from House's first word, shattering his expectations with her sheer concussive force. House watched her face in wonder, like a kid rolling on his back in the warm July grass, desperate to follow each flicker before it faded. With Stacy, he was breathless and uncertain even when he pretended he wasn't, because the stars were spinning so fast that he felt the earth turn beneath him.

-

Like banked embers, Foreman's anger grows slowly, and rarely kindles into flames. House warms himself on the simmer of Foreman's frustration. His heat is lower but also steadier. House blinks, dozing, each pop and burst of sparks no more than the comfortable pattern of Foreman's resentments, jealousies, piques. Foreman challenges him and refutes him, and House sprawls before the certainty of those coals, knowing he can't extinguish them.

-

A different shade of love or fury burned in Stacy's eyes with every provocation. House learned the quick whistle-bang when she kicked him out of bed, the crackle of her control snapping when she smacked him for being a jerk.

When they fell together, his body covering hers, House saw only a long, slow, unfolding explosion of colours. Pleasure followed his nerves like the path of a lava flow. Stacy's naked skin, the swollen softness of her mouth, the yearning draw of her breath, stole House's oxygen to feed their fire and left him panting. Mesmerized, House wrapped his arms around her, moved with her. Stacy's climax flared up, fractured, incandescent as magnesium; burst like lightning through her, through him.

-

Whether they start from snapping, bickering tension or from smirking, mutual agreement, Foreman's kisses turn gentle before long. House can't defend against the assurance behind them; he leans into Foreman as if he's the sun-heated foot of a mountain.

There's something controlled in Foreman even when he's mid-thrust, body aligned with House's and sliding against him. House pushes back, finds friction, nesting deeper into the warmth that surrounds his heart and moves outward to his skin. Foreman's too solid to shift. There's a desperate, strange excitement in fighting against the immovable, and House's heart pounds, his breath comes short. He's trapped, buried, held down and bound together by Foreman's slow-burning intensity. House closes his eyes; he lets the fire warm him.

-

Stacy vanished in a blaze of arguments, a detonation of slammed doors. Their differences erupted with each barrage of pain from House's leg.

Sometimes House searches for her wildfire beauty, but finds only the ashen trace of memory. Sometimes, he knows that when Foreman leaves him, it will be with cold anger, an empty ending.

On those nights, Foreman doesn't touch him. He cools, turns inward and away. House knows that Foreman will never knock him flying, will never banish the night with incendiary light.

But for now, sleeping, House can rest a palm against Foreman's chest and take in his heat; and Foreman will never burn.


End file.
